His Possession To Claim

Aria stood in front of her apartment, her gaze fixed on the balcony two floors above.

"Who said I hate you, my dear apartment? Who said second-floor apartments aren't cool to live in? Who needs a penthouse when you can have a lifesaver like this?" she cried dramatically, throwing her arms into the air. Her voice cracked slightly, betraying her exhaustion.

Shaking her head, she turned back to the truck and opened the back seat. The unconscious man she'd dragged home lay there, his lifeless appearance eerily peaceful. Every hospital she'd passed on the way back had been closed. It wasn't like she had a choice. As a medical student with only a sliver of practical experience, bringing him home felt like the only option. If nothing else, she could at least attempt to treat him. It was better than leaving him to bleed out.

"Congratulations, Aria. This is how horror movies start," she muttered under her breath.

Gritting her teeth, she grabbed his arm and heaved, pulling him out with every ounce of strength she had left. Dragging him across the pavement, she eventually reached the front door of the building. Her arms felt like jelly, but the hardest part was yet to come.

The elevator was, predictably, out of service—it always was after midnight. With no other option, she stared at the staircase looming before her.

"Oh, come on!" she groaned, her voice echoing in the empty lobby.

Still, she soldiered on, hauling the unconscious man up one step at a time. Every small bump in the stairs earned a faint groan from him. She winced each time, murmuring half-hearted apologies as if he could hear her, sweat dotting her brow.

By the time she reached her door, she was ready to collapse alongside him. But relief washed over her at the familiar sight of her door. It felt like it was smiling at her, waiting patiently for her return.

Without wasting another second, she punched in her pin code. The beep that followed was like music to her ears—a reminder that, despite everything, she was home.

Her relief was short-lived, though.

She glanced at the body beside her, momentarily forgetting the situation she'd gotten herself into. Her apartment door, her sanctuary, now felt like a barrier between her and the madness of what lay ahead.

With a deep sigh, she knelt to grab his arm again. That's when her eyes caught the trail of blood smeared across the hallway floor.

Her stomach twisted.

The trail led straight back to him. The source of the blood was obvious now. But there was no time to clean it—not yet. She had one priority: saving a life.

The storm outside was relentless, hammering against the window of her tiny apartment like a warning, her light flickered with the wind hitting hard on the skin, she had to close the window. The window which she had forgotten to lock before the class tour had let in rain, forming uneven puddles on the floor.

Aria didn't have time to care about the chaos around her, her attention was fixed on the man bleeding out on her kitchen table,which she had somehow managed to place there. His shirt was soaked through, sticky with blood so dark it almost looked black.

Aria hands shook as she pulled her hair in a ponytail, adrenaline dulling her exhaustion.

"I'm not a surgeon," she whispered to herself, her breath shallow, "yet, but if I don't do something, he'll die."

Aria looked at him one more time, but he laid still, almost like a dead corpse,but his reading pulse was the only evidence that proved he was still alive. She decided to check his vitals again and noticed his feverish high body temperature—she was losing him.

"Stay with me," she pleaded, grabbing her emergency medical kit, she proceeded to put on her hand gloves with her flashlight held steadily.

She first decided to clean the wound with antiseptic, "first thing, first" she said but her body was shaking vigorously causing a very clumsy effect as most of it shifted from the target area. "Focus Aria,focus" she scolded herself taking in a very deep breath.

His abdomen was slightly swollen and black veins were spreading out from the visible wound sits which looked odd. So without delaying further, she used her scalpel to gently cut it open earning a reaction from him.

The wound was awfully scarred and deep but what caught her attention was the strange jagged object embedded inside him, thinking it might be a shrapnel or any other sort of metal, she launched forward towards it, but as the light caught it, she realized the object shimmered like it was coated in oil, it's color shifting from between blue to black. Immediately, a wave of strong wind blew as the whole city blacked out, the rain stopped just as soon, the morning became a lot more eerie.

Aria adjusted her flashlight, balancing it against a stack of books which she picked out from the shelf so it illuminated the wound. The dark apartment caused by the power outage added to the suffocating tension.

"I'll number you first," she said mostly to herself. She filled a syringe filled with lidocaine and injected it carefully around the wound. His body twitched at the first prick but he stayed still not fighting it.

The shard was wedged in deep and every time she tried to grip it with the forceps, it slipped almost as if the shard resisted her touch. Blood welled up faster than she expected and she scrambled to staunch it with gauze.

"Damn it" she muttered under her breath. She couldn't stop shaking, it was her first time performing a real surgery without being under a supervision, it was nerve wracking.

For a split second, she considered giving up or calling for a helping hand, but she quickly dismissed the thought just as soon. No one would be willing to touch the wound, moreso it will attract a lot of attention placing the man in further danger and giving up was definitely not an option.

As she worked, Aria noticed something much more disturbing, the object was not just embedded—it seemed to be… growing. Tendrils of tissue clung to it, almost like his body was trying to pull it deeper instead of rejecting it.

"No,no,no" she murmure, her voice cracking. She wiped the tears from her brows, her gloves thick with blood. Every instinct screamed at her to stop, but she pushed through the panic, forcing herself to focus as she tried pulling again.

Suddenly, the man let out a strangled cry, his back arching briefly off the table, he was fully awake.

"Breath!" She shouted, pressing a hand to his chest to hold him still. His skin was ice-cold, yet beads of sweat rolled down his temples.

Finally, she managed to get a solid grip on the shard. It scraped against the edge of the wound as she pulled, making a sickening, wet sound. For a heart-stopping moment, it felt like the shard wouldn't budge—like it was anchored deeper.

"Come-on," she hissed through gritted teeth, her arms trembling. "Just… let… go." With one final tug,the shard came free. Blood gushed uncontrollably from the wound, but the bleeding slowed quickly as she packed it with gauze. She moved mechanically now stitching him up with the precision of someone too numb to feel fear anymore.

When she finally stepped back, her knees nearly gave out. The shard lay on the counter, its surface slick and gleaming under the flashlight. It was heavier than it looked and its edges were sharper than any weapon she'd ever seen.

"Why would someone use this on you?" She whispered, glancing back at the man who was now unconscious, his breathing still shallow but steady.

She cleaned the shard carefully, wrapping it in a towel before shoving it into a drawer, where it felt a lot safer.

With her tired and drained self, she took a bucket of water and clothes to wipe the trail of blood that flowed along the stairs, luckily, no one had been up to see it. Maybe, the power outage being one of the reasons.

When she was done, she was too tired to even clean up herself as she dozed off on her sofa in her blood stained clothes.